


Cosmic Love

by Laryna6



Series: Noblesse Works [7]
Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: M/M, Yet Another Flashback Era AU, not actually any more slashy than the webtoon, or every bit as slashy as the webtoon, or maybe even slightly less slashy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 08:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laryna6/pseuds/Laryna6
Summary: Compared to Dark Spear the sensation of Raizel's soul enveloping his is a relief, if it's anything at all.





	Cosmic Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is for qdeanna, who said ‘surprise me.’  
> Noblesse Tenth Anniversary Event, Prompt Number 11, Nebulae.

“We will be bound together by blood,” Raizel told him, eyes glowing. “Do you consent?”

Raizel had drunk the blood: wasn’t it too late? Or might Master hold back from beginning the contract, not use that power over his blood, unless he knelt and said, “Yes, Master.”

And waited for his mind to be engulfed, for the world around him to warp and change into blackness, into staring red eyes, into whirling pits of stars.

In the false contracts, the criminals held back from putting their minds fully in contact with the human’s mind. It meant that the minds of the traitors to humanity didn’t decay and become animalistic the way the mutants did, but it also meant the contract was unbalanced. Unfair. In a true contract, there was no such distance. And that was dangerous, the Lord had warned him. A human’s mind wasn’t truly meant to touch noble minds, to experience the world the way they did. Many had gone mad from it: there was a reason madness was associated with the touch of the divine in old tales.

His modifications might preserve Frankenstein intact; he might come out the other side _changed_ ; he might not come out at all, not with any mind capable of thought or speech.

Thinking of it didn’t make him afraid. Even waiting in the pulsing darkness like a warm cave didn’t. If anything, he felt a strange anticipation as he reached out to touch flowing red sparks.

He should be terrified that the contract would change him, but that was why he had given Cadis Etrama di Raizel his blood: because he _wanted_ to be changed. He wanted to be someone who was content to be kept here, who could be a noble’s servant and nothing else without going mad fighting to escape, to overcome.

The Union hadn’t managed to break him, but now he wanted to break, to give in. It was possible that a person who could, _would_ give in wasn’t him, that he might cease to be himself in the process of getting his wish.

Even if he went utterly mad, that was alright. He was tired. So tired of fighting without ever having a chance to rest. Here he had found rest and he wanted to lay down and, and not get up. Ever. Even if that meant dying here.

The darkness took on the appearance of organs not like those of any human or animal Frankenstein had ever seen, and he reflected that his soul had been engulfed by an inhuman creature to whom even a human like himself was just a mayfly. He might drown in the immensity of Raizel’s power, he thought, almost _trying_ to care because he knew, academically, that he should.

“There are people in the human world dying right now,” he thought. “There are criminals slaughtering innocents,” and he _should_ care about those things, how could he consider himself a human being if he didn’t?

This might change him, might make him less human, might make him as uncaring as the criminals, he thought, and there, finally, he almost felt fear… but it vanished as he grasped for it in the darkness, because it felt so small, _he_ felt so small in the abyss that was gazing at him as though he was worth looking at.

As though it was alright that he was tired. As though he was precious, not simply what he could do but he himself, and so he had a _right_ to rest before he broke, instead of drive himself to the breaking point, because he was _needed_.

He’d known academically that he couldn’t help anyone if he let them kill him, if he broke down and lost his resolve because he didn’t take care of himself, but how could he take care of himself when so many needed help? He’d only been able to care for his own soul, for his need for order and cleanliness and things being _right_ by taking on a role as a noble’s servant, saying he was cleaning his new home for Raizel’s sake.

Strange.

Wasn’t this supposed to induce madness, confusion? Yet the turmoil in him was calm, and everything seemed so clear. Instead of vitally important, his quest now seemed one thing in a vast universe, a priority among other priorities, something that might not happen if he didn’t look after other needs instead of an all-consuming need.

The connection to Raizel was receding – when he blinked he could see the room around him again for a second – but that distance remained. That perspective.

He stared out around him at the infinite universe that was the noble he’d given his soul to, vast and important but Frankenstein was used to feeling like a meaningless speck compared to the needs of others, to the lives of all the people in the world.

It felt like he’d stepped into another world, strange and unknown but also, also home. This was the same noble who made him clothing after Frankenstein had stolen from him, sacrificing one of his precious shirts in the process. A being with all this power who asked for nothing but a window. Who could have demanded much from Frankenstein, in exchange for making the clan leaders the Lord sent leave him alone but instead simply offered a place to rest until Frankenstein was well.

Speaking of which, “I am well,” Frankenstein assured him, hearing a strange echo to the words as they went through the link, through the space between and around him.

And he needed to say it, because he could see in Raizel’s eyes that his Master was worried. For him.

Frankenstein felt utterly fearless but it seemed that all that fear had flowed from him behind Master’s eyes, the same red as the lights in the void that watched him. They _were_ the same, Raizel was what watched over him, so how could he be afraid, when Raizel had ten years to attack him in his sleep and had never made use of the chance?

He smiled up at Raizel, and he could see that Raizel didn’t understand and it worried him, but Master simply sighed, because he must have already figured out that Frankenstein was strange and worrying, with ten years to get to know him.

Honestly, was it his modifications that made this feel so simple, or the fact he’d been on the verge of breaking for a long time? Why was _this_ , being confronted with what he’d already known, that nobles were strange and terrifying inhuman creatures, something that broke ancient humans who presumably knew more about nobles, because Frankenstein had only his personal observations but an entire culture living with nobles would surely know more, the way generations of farmers who worked the land from dawn to dusk would know more about their subject than a dilettante?

Or was it that familiarity that was the problem? Had they thought nobles were something simple, just humans writ large as in the old myths, only to find out they weren’t human at all, that they had given themselves over to something they didn’t understand and it was too late to take back their souls? Perhaps, but it still seemed like overreacting when Frankenstein had plenty of time to get used to the idea that he might have his mind and will stolen from him when he was dealing with the mutant plague. He’d conquered that fear centuries ago, he’d had to in order to go out there night after night. He’d had a job to do.

And here his job was to fetch Raizel’s tea and evening meal, he realized when he saw that it wasn’t just his vision flickering between perceptions, the light from outside was tinged red by dusk.

“Excuse me, Master,” he said, and hurried to the kitchen.

There were a few moments where the soup flickered into a galaxy between his hands, and the walls looked and smelled the same as the meat he was chopping, but he thought he’d gotten the hang of shutting down the bond’s intrusion into his perceptions by the time he was done with dinner.

Had the manor been made the same way as the noble’s clothing? As his body? That _was_ a valuable insight, but something to think on later.

Next, he’d need to work on keeping the bond open without it interfering with his vision and other senses, just perceiving it through the psychic sense he had _already_ developed for detecting nobles. Restrict to one sense instead of his brain trying to interpret it through the other five. He’d had a few odd moments where he felt as though he was touching noble auras with his fingertips while he was still learning to use his new sixth sense, it shouldn’t be that hard to work this out.

He was able to get dinner to the table just fine, despite a minute where he had the sensation that Raizel’s attention was vines writhing around him – he’d opened the bond deliberately to get practice, although he should have waited to do that until he was no longer carrying something that could have dropped to the floor and splattered everywhere in the unlikely event he’d been startled.

Best to give it a couple of days before trying to spar with Ragar and deal with Dark Spear taking advantage of any moments of distraction, he thought, brushing off his hands fastidiously and ignoring the blurred fields of vision from the extra eyes sprouted on his fingertips – the bond was supposed to give him a share of Raizel’s abilities, so he must have gotten an increase to his psychic sense. Really, this wasn’t very hard to deal with at all.

“Dinner, Master?”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry, but standard cosmic horror would have to step up its game to seriously horrify someone who can deal with carrying around Dark Spear, which is both a fate worse than death and human’s inhumanity to human-type horror.


End file.
